Fullmetal Fun
by The Grand Inquisitor
Summary: We all know the special relationship between Roy's team members but what all really goes on? This is just a series of one-shots about the team and some memorable interactions. Rated T for slight language.
1. Chapter 1 : Dripping

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters._

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**Dripping**

Ed watched with barely suppressed and close to maniacal glee as Colonel Mustang sauntered through the room and headed towards his private office with a lazy smirk. It was a smirk that would soon meet a wonderfully grizzly death.

Ed had left the bastard a special little surprise.

It didn't take long for Mustang to find it, or rather for it to find him based on the shriek that emanated from his office. (It was a noise Mustang would NEVER admit to having made).

"FULLMETAL!" A very angry and a very, very wet Mustang squelched out of his office glaring. He looked something like Ed imagined the indignant cats his brother tried to bathe did after finding themselves dumped unceremoniously into a tub and scrubbed thoroughly.

"Yes?" Ed asked, the picture of innocence, well, if you didn't count the obvious look of glee in his eyes.

"Why was there a bucket of water balanced on my door?" through gritted teeth Mustang asked. The vein in his forehead was popping out and his eye was ticking furiously.

Ed could hear the muffled snickers coming from Breda and Havoc's card playing corner. Fuery wore a face red from trying to hold in laughter and even Hawkeye had a particular twinkle in her eyes. Only Al gave off a feeling of vague horror at his brother and helpless apology.

"Because someone put it there. That's usually how things get places after all, except for keys and socks. I swear those things have legs." Ed nodded, trying desperately not to let out the laughter that was building in his chest.

Mustang glared daggers at him, hands clenched tight. He was staying beautifully calm considering his dripping and eye twitching state. "And just who put that bucket there?"

Ed studied the colonel, paying particular attention to the soaked through gloves on the man's hands. Playing with fire was what he was doing and this time Ed wasn't going to get burnt. He took his time amusing himself by watching the bulging vein and the ticking eye and the locked tight jaw and the growing puddle of water. Oh, he should have thought of this earlier because the look on Mustang's face was priceless!

"Well, that would have been me," he answered truthfully, in a disgustingly gleeful voice. The sound of teeth grating dominated the room.

Havoc spoke up, unable to resist a quick jab. "Colonel if you stand there too much longer you might flood the office."

A single glare from hell was enough to shut him up but not enough to stop the covert laughter bubbling around the room.

Advancing on Ed, Mustang forced another question out between clenched teeth.

"And why did you put the bucket there Fullmetal?"

"I was just helping you return to your natural state."

"Oh, do tell?"

"Useless."

Not even a glare from hell could stop the laughter this time.

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_This is my first fanfic so any reviews would be amazing. Thanks._


	2. Chapter 2 : Cup Dominoes

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters _

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**Its like Cup Dominoes**

"Okay, who gave him the cups?"

"I believe Falman did. We had five extras and Edward asked for them, sir."

"Five? There's at least a thousand and they're all filled with water for heavens sake. How does that damn brat do these things?"

"..."

"That wasn't a rhetorical question Lieutenant, I really do want to know."

"With maniacal laughter most likely."

"No one asked you Havoc."

"You said Lieutenant!"

"I meant Hawkeye."

"..."

"Well? Any theories?"

"He must have used alchemy and because I am not an alchemist I do not believe I am worthy of coming up with an adequate theory, sir."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Yes, sir."

"...How are we suppose to get to the office without knocking the lot over? It's like cup dominoes."

"Very carefully, sir."

"I know that."

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_Thoughts? Reviews?_


	3. Chapter 3 : Needling Hawkeye

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters_

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**Needling Hawkeye**

Prank-wise it had been a brilliant idea, absolutely brilliant. Carrying out-wise it had been a total disaster. Havoc really should have known Hawkeye could tell the difference between his writing and the Colonel's.

It all began with a pair of gleaming, silver, metal knitting needles with a red bow tied around them sitting smack dab in the middle of Hawkeye's desk. A gift she obviously found quite displeasing based on her trigger itchy fingers and Did-You-Do-This? glare of death.

Also, the amount of paperwork the Colonel had to do magically seemed to increase. Clearly she had a suspect. Of course, this increase of paperwork for the Colonel meant less for everyone else.

The next week there was a wicker basket full of bright pink yarn on her desk.

Mustang got more paperwork.

Then, a sewing kit appeared wrapped in neat blue paper.

A bullet hole appeared in the wall next to the Colonel's head.

It was the mini-skirt that gave him away, particularly the note folded and left on top of it reading:

_My dearest and most illustriously wonderful Hawkeye, _

_You should consider wearing this skirt. It is the paragon of feminine beauty and your legs would look incredibly sexy in it. I'll be waiting. _

_Love your faithful white knight, _

_Mustang_

Havoc was admitted to the hospital for puncture wounds from both sewing and knitting needles.

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_Never make insinuation that Hawkeye should do girly things like knit or sew. It _will_ end badly. _


	4. Chapter 4 : Revenge is Sweet (and Sharp)

_I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, at least I think I don't..._

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**Revenge is Sweet (and Sharp)**

Fuery was terrified, absolutely, totally, and completely horrified. The colonel was doing paperwork and he was whistling cheerfully. Cheerfully! That never happened. Normally Hawkeye had to check in every few minutes and loom imperiously over his shoulder. Today, he had gotten twice his usual amount of paperwork done and it wasn't even lunch time.

What was going on?

Was he a victim of some strange drug that made him want to do paperwork? Had he finally woken up on the right side of the bed? Had he been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone? Why was this happening!?

Fuery felt ready to faint.

Hawkeye entered Mustang's office looking quite pleased with her superior officer's progress on his work. She felt that if she died today, she would die happy because at least the work would get done. The colonel had made a promise after all.

"Fullmetal has arrived and will bring his report soon sir."

Mustang leaned back in his chair, shaking out his cramping hand. The evil smirk that slid over his face was spine-chilling. "Good, I've been looking forward to this."

Fuery gulped loudly, quivered for a moment, and then wilted in a dead faint. It was too much, that smile was too awful.

Pursing his lips as he noticed the soft thunk of the Sergeant's head hitting the desk, Mustang frowned. The man was too high strung for his own good.

"Oh, and Lieutenant you had better help Fuery out before he starts drooling on his work again. I'm sure you don't want any more complaints about saliva marks on the paperwork."

Hawkeye gave him a withering look, but unlike Fuery he didn't wilt, he just grinned even wider. With a crisp 'Yes, sir' she turned on one heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Roy Mustang cackled with glee. Revenge would be had! Fullmetal would pay for dousing him with that bucket of water and that useless comment. He would pay dearly for it because the revenge the man had in mind was of the worst kind. The very sharp kind.

He laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair to wait.

It wasn't long before the sound of Ed's grumbling floated through the door and bandied about Mustang's room. It was an even shorter amount of time before his door was unceremoniously kicked open with unmerited violence, and the yellow haired teen tossed what Roy loosely deemed 'a report' onto his desk.

"Fullmetal." Mustang said in greeting, his customary smug smirk fixed in place. "Take a seat, I have something to talk to you about. Alphonse, do you mind waiting outside for a few minutes."

"Uh...I don't know about-"

Ed flopped down onto the couch, waving one hand to cut Al's complaint off mid sentence. "It's fine Al, it's not like anything is going to happen."

Al's armor gave of an feeling of incredible uncertainty. He could see the sly gleam that promised danger in the colonel's eye even if Ed couldn't. After a moment more spent in uncertainty, he finally nodded. Ed could take care of himself, and Mustang probably wouldn't hurt him too bad...right? With that terrible thought in mind, Al left his brother to whatever horrible fate awaited him.

The door slammed shut with an ominous creak.

"You should oil those hinges." Ed suggested, jerking a finger at the closed door.

Mustang blinked, and then his smile slowly grew. "Indeed Fullmetal, indeed. Perhaps you'd like to help? You'd be just the right size to do the bottom one."

There was a small pause and then, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD TAKE A BATH IN A THIMBLE!"

"I said nothing of the sort." Mustang insisted smugly. Then he turned serious, a dangerous sort of serious. "Actually, I have something else to talk to you about Ed."

That caught the boy's attention, the bastard colonel rarely called him Ed. In spite of himself, he sat forward slightly, bright golden eyes perking with interest he didn't mean to show.

Mustang swallowed back the maniacal laugh that desperately wanted to roll off his tongue. Ed was caught, hook, line, and sinker. There was no escape for him now.

"As you know, it's getting to be _that_ time of year and I was feeling a little worried about you. As you know its a difficult time for all of us. Very painful in fact. But we all know it's particularly hard for you what with your little...fear." Mustang leaned forward across the desk with a solemn look.

"What are you talking about? What time of the year? And I am not afraid of anything!" Ed exclaimed indignantly, punctuating the last sentence with a stamp of his foot.

Mustang gave him a look that spoke volumes. It was a look that could fill several encyclopedias with a horrified 'I-thought-you-knew-what-I-meant!-how-could-you-not-know?-that-is-terrible!'. Of course, it only served to make Ed even more frustrated which was exactly what the colonel wanted.

"Tell me what you mean you damn bastard."

Mustang tisked, "Now, now that is no way to talk to your superior officer."

"Tell me before I smash your face in!"

"Fine, fine, but sit down before you hurt yourself. Your face might explode if it gets any redder." He plowed on before Ed could launch himself into one of his famous and uniquely verbose tirades. "The flu season is about to begin as I'm sure you know. It's expected to be extra harsh so the very kind nurses from the hospital prepared something _special_ for you."

Ed went pale, he had a bad feeling about where this was going. "Come on Colonel. I'll be just fine, you don't need to give me anything."

"No, no. This was made special, just for you. It would be very rude to waste such a precious gift. It would be shameful of you to reject such a sweet gesture from the wonderful nurses."

"It's okay, I'll just be shameful then." he said, trying to inch his way off the couch without Mustang noticing.

It didn't work.

"Sit, down right now Fullmetal." Roy enunciated, pausing between each word for extra emphasis.

"I think I'll just be going. Bye!" Ed made a dash for the door and threw it open only to find Hawkeye standing in the entrance with an even more fearsome look than Mustang on her face. The blond boy backpedal and found himself sitting on the couch once again, cornered by the two soldiers. He gulped audibly.

"Now, shall we get started Dr. Hawkeye?" Somehow Mustang had changed into a doctor's scrubs in the few seconds Ed had tried to escape.

"Yes, sir."

The sharp whistling noise Ed later swore he did NOT make could only have been a wheeze of utter terror. What was Hawkeye doing helping him? She was terrifying!

Mustang cackled maniacally and produced a the largest syringe Ed had ever seen. The needle was the size of the colonel's ego and the tip of it gleamed in ominous promise of instant pain. Then, he pulled a case (from the same dimensional pocket all evil doctors store their tools in) out and clicked it open to give Ed a full view of gleaming rows of different types of needles. Some were sharp and straight, others corkscrewed, and one looked like a miniature chainsaw.

"So, Dr. Hawkeye, which method do you suggest? Perhaps the Melbourne method? The slow insertion of the needle into Fullmetal's upper arm?"

Ed's made a little melw of protest as he quivered with absolute horror.

"That would take a full two minutes sir. Might I suggest the London method?"

"That would be too short, and it would be asthetically displeasing."

"But sir, both men were inoculated all the same."

By now Ed was a white ghost.

"Fine, we'll do it your way, but hand me the chainsaw needle. That will make it more fun.

If at all possible, the terrified alchemist went ever paler at the sight of Hawkeye picking up the demented looking needle and holding it out to Mustang. With psychotic aplomb, the man switched the two needles out. Ed's jaw dropped to the floor as he screamed silently in horror of the nightmare before his eyes.

The seconds ticked past taking an eon with them as Mustang slowly plunged the needle down towards his arm.

Before he was punctured, Ed screeched, clapped his hands together, smacked the couch, and burst out of the office like a hored of angry homunculi were after him with a vengeance. The people he bowled out of the way on his mad dash for the front door wondered just what had happened to the Fullmetal Alchemist. After a few seconds of thought, they shrugged it off as another one of those mysteries that would never be explained like how he had managed to transform Eastern Command into tastelessly decorated 13th century gothic castle overnight.

Later, when the Colonel was disentangled from the mess that had once been his couch, Al asked Hawkeye why she had helped with the prank.

Her reply was a given in a self-satisfied voice muted only by her usual professional manner, "He promised to do all his paperwork without complaining."

It had been worth it though, because Ed suffered from nightmares about syringe weilding horses for weeks.

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_Thoughts? Reviews? Props for anyone who knows what play the 'Melbourne method' comes from. Here's a hint, it's a 1940's movie. I don't own that play/movie either._


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